


Sweet as Lemon Cupcakes

by Anonymous



Series: Vampire Kisses [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, F/M, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Stalking, The Collector is a creep in this, The author thought playing with fonts is cool and now regrets it deeply, This story completely ran away from me, Vampire!Marinette, We're finally having a kiss y'all, although I think this was the only possible direction it could go, and of course it wouldn't be a Gabrinette fic without a certain somebody getting punched in the face, but I had to take a break from it and now nobody is going to believe me, unsurprisingly I know, written before Troublemaker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 20:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Collectinette Sequel to Sweet as Candy Cane





	Sweet as Lemon Cupcakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinfulpapillon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinfulpapillon/gifts).



> This whole series was actually inspired but @sinfulpapillon's wonderful Collectinette artwork on Tumblr, because my dumb brain thought "Hey, he kinda looks like a futuristic vampire hunter doesn't he?" Buuuut then I realized I'm not good at describing action scenes, postponed this idea, and wrote Sweet as Candy Cane instead. (I really hope that is fine with you, dear. I know some artists don't like it when I, for example, see an octopus in their drawings when "there clearly isn't one *insert insults here* " <\- this happened to me more than once. These Rorscharch test ink blot pictures were made for people like me. It's just ink, but my brain will see deer antlers.   
>  If not, just hit me up and I'll take this out of the note.)  
> The first chapter was actually completed around June 4th, but I had to take a break from it, as it brought up some very, very unpleasant memories. My original plan was to post this together with the second chapter, but as you all know, after July 4th, everything fandom might not be as simple as it was in the EU. I'm really worried about that new data protection regulation, so I decided f*ck it, I can at least post this and if things get difficult later, I'll just give you a summary of what I've planned for chapter two.

Marinette is a heavy sleeper who needs at least five alarm clocks to get up in the morning.

Marinette usually starts to brush the left side of her hair first.

Marinette brushes her teeth twice in the morning; once before breakfast and once after breakfast.

Marinette’s breakfast contains of a bowl of cereal or a yoghurt with fruits, some toast with bacon or cheese and a cup of coffee or juice.

Marinette sometimes eats cold left-overs from last night’s delivery too.

Marinette has a large, white bottle with ‘Emergency’ written all over it in capital letters in her fridge containing blood.

Marinette also stores some blood packages in her freezer.

Marinette has to drink blood at least once a month, more when her ‘special days’ are coming.

Marinette’s new umbrella is green.

Marinette bought it in a more prominent colour, so she won’t loose it on the metro again.

Marinette is almost never on time, but she stays late at work to compensate for it.

Marinette is the most productive at 6 pm.

Marinette phone calls her friends and family almost every evening, especially that ‘Tikki’ person, her mother or the Ladyblogger.

Marinette sometimes has Chat Noir over for a friendly _chat_.

Marinette showers in the evening to get a good night’s sleep.

Marinette sings in the shower.

Marinette’s shower gel smells like lemon cupcakes and her shampoo smells like apple blossoms.

 

Marinette. [̲̅♥̲̲̅̅M̲̲̅̅a̲̲̅̅r̲̲̅̅i̲̲̅̅n̲̲̅̅e̲̲̅̅t̲̲̅̅t̲̲̅̅e̲̲̅̅♥̲̅] ¨°o.OⓂⓐⓡⓘⓝⓔⓣⓣⓔO.o°¨

:¨·.·¨:  
`·. ᘻαɾïɳӘƾƾӘ ᴹᴬᴿᴵᴺᴱᵀᵀᴱ M̅a̅r̅i̅n̅e̅t̅t̅e̅ M̲a̲r̲i̲n̲e̲t̲t̲e̲ ̶M̶̶a̶̶r̶̶i̶̶n̶̶e̶̶t̶̶t̶̶e̶ ʍԹՐɿՌȝԵԵȝ Мᾄʀἷᾗἔҭҭἔ Māṝīnēŧŧē

Мαяιиєттє... ๓คгเภєttє... MΛЯIПΣƬƬΣ... ﾶﾑ尺ﾉ刀乇ｲｲ乇… ℳąąণᵢռℯᎿᎿℯ... ˙ǝʇʇǝuıɹɐɯ... ﾶ∆Яเи∑₮₮∑... мarιneттe... МĂŔĨŃĔŤŤĔ... ṃαɾïṉεττε... mαrínєttє... μαςjνεττε... märïnëttë... máŕíńétté... Ḿąɾïɳҽʈʈҽ… 爪丹尺工仈モ丁丁モ… m4r!n3773...

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M̛̞͓̌ͨ̄̉̓̽å͎̞͔̝̙̲r̶͙͈̙͔i͇͋ͮ̍̆ͦ͜ṇ̷͓̬͍͎̻͙͋̾͋ͮ̚eͧ̈́͏̫̗̩̭̻͕ṱ͕̥̊̑̆̅̊̓ͦṱ̼̟̭͉̪̠ͥ̏̽eͦ̑͌.̰͍̅̔̂ͭͥ̚͠ ̟̱͓͉̖̜̞̽ͤ̓͊M̠͕̙̉͢a͖̮͖͕̪ͩͭ̾͌̇r̿ͨi̔͛ͬņ͓̼̝̐̇ͫ̏̓e̝̝͎̰̱͕̠ͩt̬̲͕̲̟͒͜ț͍͎͓͠e͈ͪͪ͂͛̽ͤ.̟̟͙̜͙ ̬̘͑̊͆ͤ͑̍͒M̭͙͎̫̫̫̹ͥ̎ͨ̅͜à̵͇̪̼͇͚̜͉r̛͆͌̈́i̴̞͖͉̻̯̪͈͆ͭͥn̈͒ͯ̑̊͐͢e̪͓̗̭̟̭ͫ͐̈̈́ͤ̽ͪ͝t̞͙̘͕̭͓̖ṯ̵͚̣̫̟̦̫͐͑͒́e̴.̈́҉ ̵̠̎̚M̢̳͆ͯ̾a̞̟̰̣r͕̤͈̤ͧͩ͋̐͟ͅͅi͈̕n͌͊ͪ̓͌̚͏̟͎̦̙̼e͈̼͙͕͇͒̎͒ͅţ͖̝̥̣̥̰ͩͪ͑̈̒̄t͒e͔̊̄̅͂̽́.͚̩̗̰̙͓͙ͤͬ͞ ̤̣͎̋́̓̃͝M̼͈͋ͧ͋ͥ͆a̖͎ͯ̽ͤ̈̌̆r̩ͨͫ̾i̱̜̣͊ͭ͂͆ͮ̀͗͡n҉̙͔͔̻e̱͠t̺͉͉͕̖̳ͦͭͅt̟̬̹̱ͪͬͨͤ͌ͅê̇.̹͖̤͆̑́ͭ͡M̝̙̝̈́̒ͦ̽ą͚ͅr̹͎̥̭̯͈ͯ̾͝ͅi͉͋ͫ͋n͇̬ͫͨ͊͗͘e͍͇͔̤̱̓͂͗̑ͩ͆́͢t̞t͌ͯͨ͒͢é͓͉̤̪͙̳̈́ͬ̿̐̂͟ͅ.̺̙̱̞̩̦̤̉͛ ̙̖ͤ̈́͂͑M̫̳̮̥̜̑a̟̜̙̬̲r̫͗͊̈́̋̾͒i̤ͯ̇͝n̼͇͓͂̚ê̋̈́̓̌̍t̮͈͔̙̜̥ͬͭͥ̓̅ţ̲͋ě̫̓.̲̮̩͔̣̺̫̋ͮ͠ ̦̲͔̹̜̫̋M̫͙̹̣̝ͅa̮̼͚͗͒ͫ͊͑ͫr̦͓̮̍̂̊ͩ̒̈́͠į̠̯̟̘͉ͭͩͨͥͥ͗ͣṉ̍̆̇̈ͫ͑e̜͖̫̼͙̫̩ͥ̏̑̀̉̀ẗ͔̞ͫ͗̄̇̈́͋t̩̃͛ͪ̀͋̒̎ę̓ͥͦ͆.̴ ̃́̒̋͑M̷̆̿͑͗ͭ͋ą͚̼ͣ̒͊ͥͧͯ̔r͚̜̼̯̂̄i̡͖̟͚n̪͌ͩ́̌̓̄́e̯̟͇ͦ̈̔̀̍͂̾t̼̞͓͓͚̅̚t͇͉̪̯̤̰̑̎̑͆̔ͅe̞ͫ̕.̜͕͚̰̦͎̈́ͭ ͍̤ͮ̊̕M̤̼̱̲͇͋ͦa̷̖͚̗̗͔͊͗̈́̃̽ͣ̏r̤̜̞̜̳̭i͌͌ͯ͛̿̒̽ṋ̖̩͉ͩ̀̓ͦ͐̎̿͝ḛ̵͎̙͚͖̳̈́̇̐́ͮͧͭt̞̪̙͆ͤͥ͌͂ͧ͟ṭ̦̞̠̝̩ͧ͛̽ę͕͚̙͇̝͌͒ͥ͂ͅ.̧̟̜͖̞̾̍̀ͨ̆ ̗̘̠̝̩ͭ͒ͤ̇͗̃M͚̲̲̤̬͕ͩͦ̍̊̎͋ą͖̌r̼̻į̼̣̾̐ń͉̦̥͔̺͙̞̌̓e͙ţ͊ͯtͧ͏͍ȇ̯͖͎͚̮͓.̛͎̙ͦͧ͒ͥ ͇͚ͯͬ̈M͎̘ͨ̉ͯ̎͗a̪̳̥͓͖̥͓ͪ͊ͦͣ͞r̬̰̗̤̗̩̐̎͒ͨ̾i̥͚̼̬̥̇͋̏ͤ͛ͬ͒n̨ͨͣ͆̎̊ė̘ͮ͋͜t̆̐ͮͧ̽ͬ҉t͇ͥè̩̥͉̟̀̂͋̿ͧ.̟̰̪̥̳̦͐̏̍ͩ̌ ͈͚͖̭̱̺͍͑̓ͬ́̔M̝̱ͅͅa͋͊̊̓̋͏̱͙͚̦̝ͅr̃í̷ͫ̿͂ͩͩ͌n̹̻͔͕ͭ̑̎͊̑̿͡ę̌̑͊́̊ͩt̳̫͚̉ͨ͟ṱ̇̔͊̈́̕e͘. ̻̲̹͖͍͓̊̍ͫͭ̑̔͒M̄͐ͣa̶̠̭̤̹̦͇ͪͭ̎͌̚r̪̻̼̜͉̰͈̾̾͋ͨͪį̭̗̬͔ͥ͂ͩ̔n͓͍̞e̶͍̘̹͇̦̅t̨̗̱͍͍̘͔̜̾ͭ̊̽̌t͉̗͈͔͓̟̾͆͂ͮͮͪe̜ͮ͆͒ͭ͘.͓̺̑͛̈͑̽ͫ ̵̈́ͩM̟͙̙̲a̫̳̭̥̪̣͊r̆̀̓̿̆̅̒i̐ͮ͋͋ͣ̚n̼͈̘͖̺̼̒͗̎̅ͦe͙̝͖̯̘̯̱͌ͤ̃t̽͜t̤̞̺͇̱̦͟ͅe̝͔̺ͣ́ͪͧ.͆̊M̴̳͔̗a̠̫͓̯̥̲ͦ͊r̵̞̩̘͕̠̹͊̓̉ͭī̤̬͋̒̑̀n̶͉͍̬̙̑͐͋̈͌̂̔ͅę̬̥̼̖̉͐̀͛̽ͨ̚t́t̘̾̓e̖͙̫̹̬̯̳̓̄̋.̡ͅ ̥̙̯M̬͎̮̩ͫ̈́̎͊ͅa̦͙̼̙͎͍ͯͦ̽͛̏̂͌r̢̼̤̣̭̙͊͆͂i̮͙͍̹̫͕͍͗͆̈́̏͛̐̕n̡͚͖̳̖̮̭̏̓̈́̿ͮ̓͊e̪͟t͚͔̥̜̝̲̘͆ͦ͝ẗ̥̞̟̺͖́̄̍ͨ͋͛ȅ͉̙͗̂͊͊͑͆.̴̟̩̤̘̥̱͌ ̻͊͒̇̓̊͆͜M̞͚̼̫a̼̗͆̑̈́ͧ̆r̟̀͋̈ͫ̚ȉ̪͈̭͓̉ͫn̪̺͕̙e̵̳͓̋ͬ͛̈ͮ̊ͪt̲͎̱̀̆͗̽̄̾͒͜t͉̱͑ͧ̈́͒̚ȩ̬͚͌ͧ̈ͥͥ̌.͍̹̹̗̒̆̇ͮ ̙̬̩̻̖͈͉̄̒ͮ͛̅̕M̨̈aȑ͓̦̜̗̻͈̐̃̐̇͒ͬi̝̬̲̦̻͟n͉̣̣͖͗̈́̈́̊̋̀è̵̻ͦ̌̆ṱ̢̽ͭ͌͗̍t̮̯́͆̋e̞̠̺̳̖̙̫ͨ͛.̩̳͆̈́ͦ ̈͏̘͓͈M̴͓̞͕aṛ̫̥̝ͨ͒̓ͩ̔ͫ͟i̻̞n̏͌e͙͔͈̞̖̱͑t̵̳̝̲̯͉̦̭̓t̞͎̖͍̤̂ͣ̽ͣ̔͡ė̖̻̳ͯ̔̅ͫ͑̚͝.̼̮̙̑̔ͯͤͣ ̢̞̰͔̟ͯͬ̇͑̐̓M̦̣͇̺̺͌ͨ̕ǎ̷͋̈̊̾̓r̴͕i̮̯̋̓̇ͥ̍n̡͉̲͆ë́̓ͧͬ̓͝t̼̰͊̅ͧ̊̒̽ț̹̮̪̓̂̒̍̈ͫe͙̲͇͚ͬ̓̾ͣ͟.͉̭̍ ̯͇̩̳̃̀ͬ͊M͔͇ͅa̔̓͗r̴͕͕͐ï̙̭̱̥̯ͧ͒͡n̡̦͕̼̟͆ͅe͖̐ͮ̏͆t̜̳̥̟̫̅̎ͯͫͩ̍t͍̱̯̺͍͌́ė̼͔̓̅̄͠ͅͅ.̡̝ͮ̈́ͬͨ̋ ͕̦̗̝̬̣̩ͧ͗͊͑M͗̂a̞̠̩͆̊r͒̋͆͌ͦ̿į͑ͯͮ̆ṋ͚̯̪͔͗ͫ̓̇ͯ̿e͉͔̞͎ͦ͠ͅͅt̴̥͕̬͓͚͎t͇͂̓ͣ̿ͩ̓͗͡e̝͙̪̚͘.ͥ̌́͂ͫ̌̚̕ ̧̞̯̠̲̾͑ͧ̃M̛͍̰a͗̾́̔̈͜r̷̙͚̫͕ḯ̤̗̂n̗͔̱̝͚̮̺ė͔̔̚t̨̜͒t̞͞e͏̦̫̞͎.͉̹̍ͤ̈́ͬ͑ͪͥ͢ ̷̬M̧͚̠a̫̘ͥͤͯͭ́̑͜r͔͇̹̭̺ͩ̋i͍̻̤͕̓͢n̮̰̣̘ͯ́ͥͭͯͩe̩̭̱̺̺͑͒̓̇̚͜t͖ť̲̲̜̥͓̝̑̈̐͗ͧͤ͘ͅe̾͊҉.̰̥͉̣̜M̴̼̻̦̘̋ͅa̴̲r̔̈͆͌͐̂ͭ҉͔̞̣̦̟̻i͒ͤ͒̂n̟̹͙̥͕̝ĕ̛͛ͧ̌̑͐͛tͣ͛ͦ͗́͊t̠ȩ̮̜͓̮̳ͥͫ̃ͫ̏̒ͧ.̦͔͔̘ͫ̎͂̿̿͗͒ ̟̮̤̖̘̬̼̇M̼ą̈́ṟ̫̺͈̰̾̽͌̒ͯͭi͜n̰̂̉͑͐͌ͨͥ̕e̱̺̗͓̲̙͛͡ͅṭ͎͇ͩͤ̾̕t̛̹͎̹̟̘͐ͯ̽ͪ̑ͮȩ̫̞̻̾͛ͤͯͨͥ̎.͇͖̭͕͗͒̃ ͕̘͂̆ͧM̤̹̯͈̪à͖͙̱ͫ̑͌r̥̻̤̲ͦ̈̏̒͆ͩͅi͑n̟͔͍͘e̡͒̽̋̂t̡͌̈̎͌t̝̥̭̟͋̑̓̓ͮ̍ͨ͝eͨ͐ͬ͊̍͘.ͧ̈́̓̒ ̗̤̯̙̦̜̂ͪ͒̍̕M̮̓͊̓ͪͅa̜͍̞̼̾̑̐r̠͐̑i̫̩̿̐̂͌n̼͖ͩ̍ͭ͋͡eͩ̅͐҉̪̺̹t̬͙͌̋ͬ̀ͪ͠t̡̾e͍̠̪̲̼̾͆̉.̠͇̱͙̗ ̹̣̮̥M̻̦a̘͉̱̬͈̠̺̒̌̂̆ͩ̾r͐i̻͇̼͈̼ͮn͉͎͍͐ȩ͕̲͚͍̞̗t̸͙̝͋t̪̟͇̣̝e̙͈̲͞.̈́ͩ ̧̼ͪ̏̉̊M̶a̼̖̜͜r̫̉ͦ͛̄ͧ͒̽i̵̙̘̙̹̩ͫͯͧn̰̠ͤ̅eͥ̍̃̒ͣ͑t̆ͧͯ͒҉̥̩t͕͉̺̘̏̆̎̂ͫ̐͟e̫̰̺͙̲͎ͧ̽͑ͫ.̪̼̼͚̰̭̣̃ͯͣ̑ ͈̗̦̘͈̙̗́͌̿̅M͍̫̜͔̜̣̖͋͊̓̋̈́͆͝a̴̲͕̫ͭͨrͤ̊́͢ĭ͔̙͔̈́̆̽̒̒n̓͜e̞̝̎̑ͦͫ̄͑̑t̅͞t̢̲͇͇͉̜̲̥͐͋̏ͭe̠͓̘͐͂ͤͪ̓.̡̻̈̏ͮ ͍̾ͪ̄ͩM͎̗̔̂a̺͐rͪ͑͗͆̈́̏҉͈̝i̬͕͓̤̺̓̐ͅn̠̬̪̺̤̤͓͑̈́̿̂́̾͋é̸͍̀̇t͉̞̲͌ͯ̑͐̄̊́͢t̼͖͇̓ͦ̿eͧ͂͂.̻̲ͤ̀͆̄ͬ͜ ̞̻̳̱͛̒ͦ̽͋M͍͇͓̭͂̿̊ͧ͡a̼̣̫͔̳̘̔̊r͔̞͇̜̺̪̳ͮ͑̌̑̑i̠̭͚͕̗͕̼͑͋́͂̾̌̚n̖͉̻̩̝ͤ̄̊͛ͅe̸̫̪̲̍̏̃̄̅ͣťͭ̋̃͂t̴͈͕̬̥̍̋̃ͯȅ̟̗̙͇͙̭͞ͅ.͖̝̠͉͑̊ͨ̌̉̓ͪͅ ̨͕͓̍̋ͤͩ͗͑M̷̤̬̖̭ͯ̑a̲̠̺ͪ͌̈r̶̪̝̈̿ͧ͛̈̋ĩ̸̻̭̯͇̪̏n̘͚̪̟̋̏͐ẻ̛̞͖̊t̼ͪ̋̇͆t͇̠̩̭e̦̭̫̎͌ͪ.̨͓͉ͣ̅ͭ̾ͯM̧̭͕̦̞͚ͦͦa͇̬͚̩̗͎͗̄̎r͓ͯ͛ͯï͒̅̍͑ͧn̠̄ͧ̐̉͐͑͢eͧ́ͪ͏͉͚͉ţ̞̩̗̝̩͚̖̑͊͌t̤̹̖̱̲̣̩͑ͤͤ̎ͧȇ̛̻͕̩̞͛ͥ̄͆ͣ̽ͅ.̨ͨ̄̍ͭ̾ͧ ̛͍̪̟͔̞̰ͣ̉̅M̹̻̭ͭ͋̑ͮͮͪã̧̫̫͔̻̝r̫̮̗̲̤̥̮̈i̮͈̩̾̋̓̃̾ͅn̷͈e̴͓̰͈͂̐͐̐t̳̟̪͇̲̪̀̎t͕͖̰͓̋̍̎̋̎̃ẻ̳̆͑̾͌̔ͦ.̗̲̬̠͈̩͔ͣ̉̓̋̒ ̯ͪͬ̐̍͒͘M҉̲̮̳̭̖̹ȃ͋̽̑ͤ҉̻͕r̹̻̼͙͎̲͙i̢̪̞̩̇ͧͧͅn̉́̿̚ę̲ͦ̑t̤͍͙̊̎̆̽̃͞t̠͚̬͖̤̅e͇̥ͬ͛ͫ.̛͍̰͉͔̰̯̩ͦ̾ ͤ̈͂͊̀̅̀M̜͔͇͕͊͋͂̓̊ař͔ͭ̂͗̆͐͜i͙̞̝ͭͩ̆͂ͧͭ̈n̼ę̱̳͕̝̣̓̉̇ͦ̂̚̚t̹͂̄͝t̶̗̬̪̩̅̑̓ͬͯe̼͖̜̻ͦ́̔̋̂ͦ̕.̢̼̩͎̗̠ͩ̂̏̐ ̹̰̹̻̣̫̘ͯ̃̽Ḿ̗̤͇͛̔̇̅á̧͍͍̖͙͔̘͍̉̃̇̽̐r̴̖̥̬ȋ̡͎̖̖̦̻̬̼͋͋̍̋̍̈́n͚͚̾̀ͩ̉̽̽e̷͖̘̖͖̭̋ͦͦ̋̆t̹̦̞͑̒ͭͧť̵̬̳̦̝͍͈̯̔ͩ̾ͭ̈e̶͖̔͂̓ͥ͋͆́.̱ͪ̓̓͒̑̓̇ ̲̺̪͖̭̻̓̔ͮ̃M͈̣̥ͧͩͫ̓̽a͇̙͙̽ͭr̗̳̰̔ͪ͂̉̄̈̈́ͅi̬̫̜̲͟ͅn̫̗͉̪͈̭͕͗͗̾̚e͒́̃ͫ́t̷̯̦͇͓̥t͕̪͟e͚̠̺͎͔ͥͩ̉.̴͓̫̙̮͙̣̿͋ ̙̦̙̞̺͚̫̀ͥ̃ͫ͂̂M̲̌͋̿ͭ̔̽͠a͌͒r̞̥ͧ̇̄̆̽ͧ̔ị̴̹̂̾̍n̳̯ͬé̩̤͈̱̟ͫ̏t͓̩̺ͨ̑͂ͬ͒t͗ͫ̾͑e̋.̡̗͔̞ ̹̑ͮ̔ͪM͈̺̏̓a̟͛̆ͬͮr̬̤ͧ͒̇i̻͖n̹͖̼̺͚͞e̸̦̤͚͔̱̲ͦͯ̿̍̀t̼͇̼͙̻̠̲̀͛ͪ̍t͙̗̺̪̙̩̣̋̀̆̇͛̈́̉͞e̻̼̤̳̒̿̚͞.̙͂̀̂̄̈́͗ͥ͡ ̱̗̠̽̌̃M̶̬̗̩͎̿̑̈a̷͉͓̞̝̥̅̅ͩͬͦ̋r̭i̖̩̪̼͓͗͊͜n͍̯̝̮͚̻̦ͧͩ̓ͩͩẹ̭̣̤̤̃͜t͖͇̦͎̞͕͐ͭ͂t͎͕͔̣̞͈e̲͙̦͈̗ͨ̅ͪ̋̎ͭ.́͏̭ ͜ͅM͔͕̙̔̿̎́ͣ͑a̩̖̲̒̇̏ͦr̢̼̟͙̬̤̽̾̉͒ͣį͙̱͍̝n̟̭͙̝͓̲͋̾͐ę͉̝̟̳̯̻ͅt̞͕̬̀̅̈̾͌ͯ̎ṫ̘̞̩͇̝̰̿͗e̼̺̍͊ͨͣ͊̌͢ͅ.̳̺̯̫̎̊ͥͦͤͥ̂ͅMͦͦͬ̏̏҉̭̥ã̯̱̗̯ͮ̊͗͛ͧ̓r͎̿͘i̧̙̗͉̪̱̇͐̿n̺̻͉̣̖̰̙̈́ͥ̎ͮ̆̾e̍ͦ̐͋҉̙̠͉̼t̠ͫͣ͐͟t̸͖̱̞̺e̬͓̠̱ͨ̏̚.̹̟̰̊͊̓̚ ̲̱̻͈̏̔͗M͎͈͉a҉̲̯̦̼͎r̛̘̩̫̗͚̻̆̊̐̍ͅi̓͑̒̊ͣ͊͠n͋ͮ͐̓͆̉͆e̵͎͍̐̐t̯̐̊ṯ̙͖͚͗̅͛̊è̽ͥ̌͏̜̬.̢̼̮̯͔̅̈́͐ ̘̞̟̰̞̃̀ͭ͠M̺̍͗͋ͮa͈̤͍̫͎̳̎̄̄͑r̦̥͎͔̅ͅiͩͩ̌̈́ṇͬ̅̐̇̔e̖̦̞̝̖͚̋ͦt̪̣̹̟̭̬ͣ̾ͪ̓t̪̱̲̠́͌̒͊̑͡e̱̰͇͚̤̣͒ͣ̇ͥͤͩ.̨̪̱͇̗̇ͪ͂̊ ̢̻̫͎̫̲̟̟̎͛̑ͥ̈́̃̂M̭͎̬̗̜̠ͥͅä̊̏̚͏̣̲̹ri͚̍n͖̹̜͟ḛ̸̘͔̤̼̎t̗͈͍̭͖ͣ̂̈ͪͯ̈́̚t̨̬͓̭̣̣ͭ̊̍͗̚e̱̙̹͌̆̍̈́ͥ.͂ͪͫ ̘̱̖͇͚M͏͉̩a̟̫̣͕̼ͬ͊̕r͖̲͈͈̭̮̩̃̐̉̀ͩi̱̞̼̹̬̟̔͒ͪ͆̌̏̚n̟̩͌ͩ̉͗e̗͎̹ͥͪ̿ͭͅt̥͚̺͍̒́͆t̷̻̜eͫ̒ͣ҉.̛̖̠̾͌̋̎ͪ̊͊ M̳̯̜̲̭̼̫̈́ͥạ̙͉̺̑͋̽ͮ͆͑̒r͖̯̰̗͉̘̜͊ͮͮͯ̓î̊̎͂̎n̝̥͙̜̖̳͒̈ͫ͑͟ḙ̠̯͉̪̬̞̎̑ͬ̈ͪ͂̍t̺͈͎̄̌́͆͛͐t̨̼̠̤͛ͩ̓̊̔̋̊e̞ͨͪ̂͝.̰̜̩̞̖̯̒͋ ̉͗̊M̨̖̬͊͌͐̍͋̈́ạ̔͑̾r͓̖̪̲̟̦̭͗͗͂̽ͥ̆͟i̝͔̟͍͔ń̘̤̜͆e͔̜̓̌̅̾̚ẗ̵̟̻͙́ͤ̒͒t͉̅ͬ̂̀̄͒͠e̼̺̫̙̦̘ͧ̃̐ͣ.̔͂ͭͧ̍҉ ͔͇̥̬͐͛̅̌̽̚M̹͔͕͈̻͌͛̀͆͗̏̆a̲̩̝̲̪̮͔͒ͤ͡r̅͟ȉ͉̪̪ͪ͊͟n̙̭̰̟̈eͫͦ̈́̽̚͜t̺̺͈ͯ̑͋̓̊ͧ̚t͂e̯͓ͭͫͤ͋̿.̵̙̤ͪͬ̇ ͉̪̠͚̿͌̐͌͑ͫ̍͞M͓̍̄ͫͯ͜a̞̙͓̘̥͓̭ͫ̾r̝͍͎̰͇̰̰̎̅͗̑̍͛͆͡in̑ͪ̂ȅ͔̦̜ͣ͒̍͒ͯ͞ẗ̨͌̀ͩ͂̏t̴͇̩̻̥̺͛̄̐͂̏ͧ͛e͓̫̼ͫ̒̒͘.̎͌̈̉ͥ̋͏͇̝ ̝̯̼̹ͣ́͢Ṃ̭̌͛͋̓͐ȁ̛̞̊̌͊r̜͍̞̺̜͋ͦ̇i̺̗͔̻͇͖͉ͫ͝ň͓̤̆͐ͮ̏ͫē҉̥̳̥̜t̺̙͔ͣ͛ͅt̫̳e̞̽͠.͇͖̣̎ Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette.Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette.Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette. Marinette.

 

In France, yellow represents jealousy. How fitting it is. He can’t take it any more. He wants her. He wants her all for himself.

 

***

She’s staying behind, as usual. Vampires are nocturnal creatures, he muses. At least, that would explain why she is more energized in the evening hours. It’s perfect.

Love can be addictive. He’s unsure if he’s craving it, but he’s craving for a connection with her. He’s craving for another bite, just like a heroin addict is craving another shot. He needs answers. If this is the result of some sort of vampire magic, he might be able to forgive her. But if it’s not- if he is actually seeking a romantic connection with her, and that wasn’t her intention- he doesn’t know what he’ll do. It has been so long since he had to convey his feelings, he doesn’t know how else he could get them through. He really is a coward. Why else would he need assistance in this?

 

It’s different from last time. He’s not just collecting, he’s improving, augmenting. There are sticky notes scattered all over the pop-up book. It is both orderly and chaotic at the same time. He likes it. He even collected some of her ‘friends’ so she won’t be feeling lonely. He continues his walk through the empty corridors, stopping in front of a door. The Collector raises his book against it and the door disintegrates. Marinette stops her doings and looks up from her work.

 

***

 

The source of inspiration for their new line ‘comfortable urban legends’ seems highly fishy to Marinette. She sighs over the pun and tries on the prototype of mermaid gloves she’d just sewn for the ‘comfortable mermaid’ outfit. The studs and sequins make a nice fish scale design. The lining could use some improvement, though. They’re a little bit itchy. She is about to take them off to work on the ‘comfortable vampire’ piece when a chill runs down her spine. In a lightning fast move, Marinette dodges the book aimed at her head.

 

“Have we met before?” she pretends not to recognize him as it floats back to him, hovering at the height of his chest.

 

“You once stole another book from me when you were a teenager… or were you not a teenager back then?”

 

“And what do you wish to call yourself tonight?”

 

“I am still the Collector; I just got some enhancements, want to see?” The book flaps open and the pages rustle while turning over and over.

 

She doesn’t worry too much about having a hand-to-hand fight with him. She has been fighting him before and this new collection looks quite heavier. So far, they have only circled each other like gunslingers in an old Western.

 

“I see you’ve been working on the mermaid theme. Maybe you want to look at the original material again?”

 

The rustling of the pages stops and a giant scallop materializes. Marinette’s face turns as white as its shell when it claps open to reveal the emotionless face of a certain, ginger haired Olympics swimmer.

 

“Ondine...”

 

“I got more, I got more!” he’s almost giddy, as exited as a schoolboy. The book slaps shut, reopens again and she can see the wolf akuma Félix had been turned into during the rehearsal for _Little Red Riding Hood as Ballet_ a few months ago. He growls when the book closes again and the next time it opens, she can see a small Horrificator crying on an immobile Stone-Heart. Before it can open again, she kicks it up and out of the way. Marinette crawls her way around the fists and kicks aimed at her as the book finds its way back into his hands like boomerang.

 

“What are you doing? They have done nothing to you!” Her passion for the new line has evaporated.

 

“But you like them. I thought you would like some company. Take this little genie in the bottle as an example. Wouldn’t she make a terrific handmaiden and company? You love the little Rose very much, don’t you? I watched you entering her perfumery. You bought _Sui Dreams by Ana Sui_ , correct?”

 

“It was a birthday present for Bridgette… She likes vanilla scented things.” she swallows thickly.

 

“And the flacon is such a pretty shade of blue. Just like your eyes, Marinette.”

 

“Wait a second...A handmaiden? What is this about?”

 

“I would build a castle for you with my very own, bare two hands.” he spreads out his arms dramatically. The pages of his book are rustling again. “Luckily, I don’t have to. What would you prefer? I already got the _Palais du Louvre_ , but how about _Château de Vincennes?_ ”

 

T he pop-up  book  shows the Castle of Vincennes of the late eighteen-hundreds and early nineteen-hundreds. She  is starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable, wondering if her  outstanding agility  alone will  really  get her out of this situation. 

 

“Comes with a dungeon. How lovely.” she deadpans. _I could make jokes about_ _ **de Sade**_ _now, but..._

 

“Only the best for you, _Princess_.” he  spats out the nickname and adds, “I saw you with him.”

 

“Okay, whatever you saw was...”

 

“Do you fuck him?”

 

 _How dare he._ Anger explodes in her. Anger and shame. If she was a cat, her hackles would be bristling. The snarl leaving her mouth is at least very feline. In her fury, she lashes the mermaid gauntlet into his face, once, twice, combined with her other fist to his stomach, leaving a large laceration on his mouth. He touches the bleeding lip and she uses his distraction to put some distance between them. She grabs whatever comes under her fingers to throw it in his direction, hoping he buys her fake escape plan, maneuvering herself towards the staircase. Her real goal is to hit one of the windows behind him, hoping that the noise of shattering glass will attract a certain cat. He’s around somewhere, she can feel it. It’s also a great way to reduce her level of rage. 

 

“Do you really think you can patronize me? That feeding on someone is the same as being intimate with them? That I’m just a slave to my instincts? That I’m playing hard to get, but actually I’m just a...a...?” she seethes. One of the vases almost hits him. Almost.

 

“I don’t drink from strangers if I can avoid it. Feeding is about trust. Just because I have that emotional intimacy with him you go all akuma on me? How come you didn’t do that when Félix helped me out?”

 

“Because he’s part of your family and that mangy alley cat is not.”

 

“Chat Noir is virtually part of my family.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“I’m his sire. Not because I wanted to, he was shot by some gang of robbers one evening and I had to- I couldn’t let him die, I- He wasn’t happy about it either, but we started to feed on each other from then on.”

 

“So what if you don’t have that sort of relationship with your _progeny._ Even with that degree of kinship, the stray should just ask his own girlfriend to feed on!”

 

_Oh no he did not just implicate that._

 

“Ladybug isn’t his girlfriend and he would never drink from another human.”

 

“So he’s guilt-tripping you despite saving his life? That’s disgusting.”

 

“Careful now. Take a good look at your own performance.”

 

The blade of a knife juts out of the pages, pointed at her. She remembers that Slasher akuma with Lady Wi-Fi like abilities, hiding in personal items of his victims and only materializing to attack them. It took Chat and her over a month to catch him. The Collector and the vampire continue attacking each other and Marinette lands a fist in Gabriel’s face. He’s staggering back a little before taking another swing at her, but she grabs his arm, twisting it around until he writhes in pain. From the corner of her eye, she can see his other arm, the one holding the book trying to make a stab at her. She dodges every stab, using the twisted arm against him, but at the same time this lockgrip is hindering her. The second the book opens and the elongated arm of his slasher monster jumps at her, she bites down on the Collector’s wrist. She can hear an emetic-inducing, cracking noise. He drops the book, going numb over the amount of sedatives she pours into the wound. Marinette prays the lucky charm will fix that as well or else he might experience some nerve damage in that arm.

 

“You know, I usually like your blood. I like it a lot. But chewing on your sleeve like some puppy isn’t very delicious, _darling_.”

 

“But you like his more...”

 

_Is he sulking?_ She shakes her head over this.

 

“The whole rigmarole just because you wanted to get to know me better? Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, just ask me?” 

 

“I-I don’t...”

 

She groans at this, “I’m not doing this while you’re unstable. However, a small punishment is still in order.”

 

And with that, she  sucks his lower lip into her mouth and  forcefully bites down on his laceration.  It was a sudden resolve, but t he effect is instant.  Pain and pleasure are entering his system and she has to support him as his back bumps against her desk. A weak moan escapes his lips causing her to blush. 

 

_That doesn’t count as a kiss right? But he doesn’t want me to drink from anybody else. Oh god, that sounds like a proposal! No, stop it. You’re working yourself up again..._

 

She bites down on his neck to stop her thoughts. _Later..._

 

 

***

She has never been this full. She usually takes just enough to keep going, but she knows when to stop. Her stomach makes a sound of protest at the thought. The drowsiness coming with eating too much makes her want to sleep right there, but she still has to take care of the akuma and if someone found them tomorrow like this…

 

“Whoa, you better not have killed him. Because while I do a lot for you, I’m not helping you disposing of a corpse.”

 

_About time kitty cat. I kind of forgot about you…_

 

“Of course not! I just took a little more than usual. God, I think I’m entering a food coma. Just take the book; Ladybug will cleanse it later.”

 

“Sure. _Ladybug_ will cleanse it later.”

 

“Chaton...”

 

“Aye aye.” he cataclysms the book and puts the butterfly into a mason jar.

 

“You’ll manage this?”

 

She barely manages to get up from her unconscious boss, swooning a little herself.

 

“I think I’ll just go home and hibernate for a year.”

 

“We don’t hibernate. Besides, there’s still work to do.”

 

“I know. Help me?” she gestures at Gabriel’s unmoving frame.

 

“The stone-cold lady is already at home, but I could get his son to pick him up. Not ideal I know, but-” she rips the mason jar out of his arms and stomps away.

 

“Better him than you. He doesn’t like Chat Noir that much at the moment. Watch your back, kitten.”

 

Chat just laughs at her.

***

 

_Marinette is always pretending to be cute in front of boys. It’s getting really on my nerves._

 

_S͖͙̟̐͛̆ḣ̟̇̔̔̆͒̚u̗͉̣͋ͯ̒ͫ̌ͦt̑̾̎ͬ̈̑ͣ ̖̰̫͖̱ͫ͊͗ͯͧ͠u͉͙ͥ̆̐̌̏͝p̊̽ͬ͛̒ͧ̕.̠̲̠͓̉ͣ̒ͥͭ̂͡_

 

_Well, it’s your own fault, M. You always seem so shy and unapproachable at first, it’s triggering their hunting instincts._

 

 

_S̵̮̏̔ͦh̻ͥ̇̎͗ȕ̂ͨ̕t̒ͧ́̐͆ ͌̂u͉̽ͤͣ̇̋p̡̪͉̫̰͖̣ͧ.̷̝͖͇̘ͨ̄̔ ̼͖̥̦̣͍̈́̒̒S̛͈̣̘̣̜͂ͬ̚h͖̲̬ͮͬͮ̋̔ͤ̔u̬̹̠̥̘̔̋̾̋̚t̘̥̱̾̆̒̒̈̓ ͈̭̝͔͑̍̐u̲̞̲͇͊ͦͧ̂̑̍͜ͅp̸̹̈́ͅ.̯_

 

_Haha, that’s just your bad luck. You attract them like filth attracting flies._

 

_S̮͚̜̮̮̤͇͕ͯ̓̌͐̍͆ͣ̔̉̓̑͛̋̈́̄̓ͩͮ͠ͅḥ̣̫̐̋ͯ̓͐̒̂̅ͣ͘͝ͅu̶̹̥͖͔̞̰̬ͦ̈́͂̉̾̀ͯ̔̉ͫ̌̏ͤ͒ͩ͘ͅt̢̠̖̙̥͈͇̝͙̜͔̜̳̯͓̮͖͙͊ͦ̂ͬ͑̏ͧ̈͗̕͟ ̴͔̭̪̤̠̙̭͔̠̑̓̀̾̌̍̒̽ͥͣ͘ư̵̡̢̭̹̤̯̗͋ͪͭ́͌̚p̸̹̜͇̱̱͚͕͕̲̟͙̖̱̬͉͉͔͔̗ͯ̀ͤ̓ͬͣ̐̈́̽͒ͮ̕.̵̑ͬ̅ͮͪ̆ͫ̓̏̔͗̈҉̢̦̟͚̯̤̹͈̬̭̺̜̖̻͖̠͡ͅ ̧̈ͪ̒̏̔͆ͭ̋ͧ͂ͥ҉̙̭̮͍̰̖̖̮̲̗̟̲͔̞̣͕͖̰̬S̢̡ͣ̅̒̒́ͮ͑҉̸̱̥̹̖̹͔̤̹͚̝̪͈̲͚̙̰̼h̅ͣ̊̽̔ͩ͂́̑̿̚͏̧̛͏͈̬̻̯̼̭̻͎̙̬̖̻̣̗̦̝ủ̧͚̘̫͉̯̠̮̣͕ͭͬ̃̊ͦ̊̀͐̃̋͗ͅt̸̜̗̰̠̘̻̼̘̦̙̲̜̮͇͙̩ͯ̆̋̇͘͟͝͠ ̷̨̂̌̓̓́ͣ̂ͣ̿ͬ̈̊҉̹̭̲̲̟̪̗̼ư̧̮̜̤̩̭̑ͥͧ̑͐͟ͅp̡̩͓̖̦̻̳̮̣͇̯̤̳͕͔̰͍̜͓̃ͫ̑ͤ̒͆ͩ̿ͬ͗͛͊̋̍̿͂̈̀͘̕͞ͅ.̢͓̟͈͕̪̗̹̰̺͖́̍͋ͨͯͬ̊ͦ̅̑͜͡ ̵̨͓͎̮͖͉̤͇̗̭̥̝̦̮̭̺͉͓̩̍̆͒́ͩ̓͂̅̈ͤ̆ͭ͑̃Ś̥͍͓̤̦̥̥̜̗̹̮͖̱̌̄ͤ̅ͨ̈̅͝ͅḫ̷̫͕̫̤̇ͥ̅̃̐̀́̿̎͋̈́ͦͬ̐ͦͭ͟͝u̵̸̸̶̬̲̭̹̺͕͚͍̭̙͎̺͍͊̑̅͋ͫ͐̉͊̊t̢͚͉̲̣̩̻͍̱̿̍̇͐ͥ̒͆͑̽͗̇ͦͥ̚͘ ̅͗͒̽͊̍̈́̔ͨ̄̈ͫ͛͐̑̋̕҉̮͕͍̱̖͇̘̞̱̞̰̘̘͖uͮ̉̿̓͑̅͗̈́̾͋̋̐̓͌̆҉̷̧̢̳͔̱̱̰̤̜̳͉̱̹̬̬͢p̸̡̩͈͉̗̪̦̝̞̞̹̠ͪ̊ͮ̒ͫͦ̆ͮ̋ͦͫ̏͢͝͞.̶̸̰͎̮̼̻̘͔̞͓̳͓̣̮ͣ̃̽̊̓ͩ̌ͅ ̷̧̜̰̗̥̙̲ͫͪ͛͋͌̅͗̈̇̈͊͆̿̽̚̕͝ͅ_

 

_If you’re not willing to be my girlfriend, we don’t have to see each other again._

 

_S̵̮̏̔ͦh̻ͥ̇̎͗ȕ̂ͨ̕t̒ͧ́̐͆ ͌̂u͉̽ͤͣ̇̋p̡̪͉̫̰͖̣ͧ.̷̝͖͇̘ͨ̄̔ ̼͖̥̦̣͍̈́̒̒S̛͈̣̘̣̜͂ͬ̚h͖̲̬ͮͬͮ̋̔ͤ̔u̬̹̠̥̘̔̋̾̋̚t̘̥̱̾̆̒̒̈̓ ͈̭̝͔͑̍̐u̲̞̲͇͊ͦͧ̂̑̍͜ͅp̸̹̈́ͅ.̯ S͖͙̟̐͛̆ḣ̟̇̔̔̆͒̚u̗͉̣͋ͯ̒ͫ̌ͦt̑̾̎ͬ̈̑ͣ ̖̰̫͖̱ͫ͊͗ͯͧ͠u͉͙ͥ̆̐̌̏͝p̊̽ͬ͛̒ͧ̕.̠̲̠͓̉ͣ̒ͥͭ̂͡ Ś̥͍͓̤̦̥̥̜̗̹̮͖̱̌̄ͤ̅ͨ̈̅͝ͅḫ̷̫͕̫̤̇ͥ̅̃̐̀́̿̎͋̈́ͦͬ̐ͦͭ͟͝u̵̸̸̶̬̲̭̹̺͕͚͍̭̙͎̺͍͊̑̅͋ͫ͐̉͊̊t̢͚͉̲̣̩̻͍̱̿̍̇͐ͥ̒͆͑̽͗̇ͦͥ̚͘ ̅͗͒̽͊̍̈́̔ͨ̄̈ͫ͛͐̑̋̕҉̮͕͍̱̖͇̘̞̱̞̰̘̘͖uͮ̉̿̓͑̅͗̈́̾͋̋̐̓͌̆҉̷̧̢̳͔̱̱̰̤̜̳͉̱̹̬̬͢p̸̡̩͈͉̗̪̦̝̞̞̹̠ͪ̊ͮ̒ͫͦ̆ͮ̋ͦͫ̏͢͝͞.̶̸̰͎̮̼̻̘͔̞͓̳͓̣̮ͣ̃̽̊̓ͩ̌ͅ ̷̧̜̰̗̥̙̲ͫͪ͛͋͌̅͗̈̇̈͊͆̿̽̚̕͝ͅ_

 

_Don’t tell me. Another one of these ‘nice’ guys? Really, Mari?_

 

_Ś̥͍͓̤̦̥̥̜̗̹̮͖̱̌̄ͤ̅ͨ̈̅͝ͅḫ̷̫͕̫̤̇ͥ̅̃̐̀́̿̎͋̈́ͦͬ̐ͦͭ͟͝u̵̸̸̶̬̲̭̹̺͕͚͍̭̙͎̺͍͊̑̅͋ͫ͐̉͊̊t̢͚͉̲̣̩̻͍̱̿̍̇͐ͥ̒͆͑̽͗̇ͦͥ̚͘ ̅͗͒̽͊̍̈́̔ͨ̄̈ͫ͛͐̑̋̕҉̮͕͍̱̖͇̘̞̱̞̰̘̘͖uͮ̉̿̓͑̅͗̈́̾͋̋̐̓͌̆҉̷̧̢̳͔̱̱̰̤̜̳͉̱̹̬̬͢p̸̡̩͈͉̗̪̦̝̞̞̹̠ͪ̊ͮ̒ͫͦ̆ͮ̋ͦͫ̏͢͝͞.̶̸̰͎̮̼̻̘͔̞͓̳͓̣̮ͣ̃̽̊̓ͩ̌ͅ ̷̧̜̰̗̥̙̲ͫͪ͛͋͌̅͗̈̇̈͊͆̿̽̚̕͝ͅ Ś̥͍͓̤̦̥̥̜̗̹̮͖̱̌̄ͤ̅ͨ̈̅͝ͅḫ̷̫͕̫̤̇ͥ̅̃̐̀́̿̎͋̈́ͦͬ̐ͦͭ͟͝u̵̸̸̶̬̲̭̹̺͕͚͍̭̙͎̺͍͊̑̅͋ͫ͐̉͊̊t̢͚͉̲̣̩̻͍̱̿̍̇͐ͥ̒͆͑̽͗̇ͦͥ̚͘ ̅͗͒̽͊̍̈́̔ͨ̄̈ͫ͛͐̑̋̕҉̮͕͍̱̖͇̘̞̱̞̰̘̘͖uͮ̉̿̓͑̅͗̈́̾͋̋̐̓͌̆҉̷̧̢̳͔̱̱̰̤̜̳͉̱̹̬̬͢p̸̡̩͈͉̗̪̦̝̞̞̹̠ͪ̊ͮ̒ͫͦ̆ͮ̋ͦͫ̏͢͝͞.̶̸̰͎̮̼̻̘͔̞͓̳͓̣̮ͣ̃̽̊̓ͩ̌ͅ ̷̧̜̰̗̥̙̲ͫͪ͛͋͌̅͗̈̇̈͊͆̿̽̚̕͝ͅ Ś̥͍͓̤̦̥̥̜̗̹̮͖̱̌̄ͤ̅ͨ̈̅͝ͅḫ̷̫͕̫̤̇ͥ̅̃̐̀́̿̎͋̈́ͦͬ̐ͦͭ͟͝u̵̸̸̶̬̲̭̹̺͕͚͍̭̙͎̺͍͊̑̅͋ͫ͐̉͊̊t̢͚͉̲̣̩̻͍̱̿̍̇͐ͥ̒͆͑̽͗̇ͦͥ̚͘ ̅͗͒̽͊̍̈́̔ͨ̄̈ͫ͛͐̑̋̕҉̮͕͍̱̖͇̘̞̱̞̰̘̘͖uͮ̉̿̓͑̅͗̈́̾͋̋̐̓͌̆҉̷̧̢̳͔̱̱̰̤̜̳͉̱̹̬̬͢p̸̡̩͈͉̗̪̦̝̞̞̹̠ͪ̊ͮ̒ͫͦ̆ͮ̋ͦͫ̏͢͝͞.̶̸̰͎̮̼̻̘͔̞͓̳͓̣̮ͣ̃̽̊̓ͩ̌ͅ ̷̧̜̰̗̥̙̲ͫͪ͛͋͌̅͗̈̇̈͊͆̿̽̚̕͝ͅ Ś̥͍͓̤̦̥̥̜̗̹̮͖̱̌̄ͤ̅ͨ̈̅͝ͅḫ̷̫͕̫̤̇ͥ̅̃̐̀́̿̎͋̈́ͦͬ̐ͦͭ͟͝u̵̸̸̶̬̲̭̹̺͕͚͍̭̙͎̺͍͊̑̅͋ͫ͐̉͊̊t̢͚͉̲̣̩̻͍̱̿̍̇͐ͥ̒͆͑̽͗̇ͦͥ̚͘ ̅͗͒̽͊̍̈́̔ͨ̄̈ͫ͛͐̑̋̕҉̮͕͍̱̖͇̘̞̱̞̰̘̘͖uͮ̉̿̓͑̅͗̈́̾͋̋̐̓͌̆҉̷̧̢̳͔̱̱̰̤̜̳͉̱̹̬̬͢p̸̡̩͈͉̗̪̦̝̞̞̹̠ͪ̊ͮ̒ͫͦ̆ͮ̋ͦͫ̏͢͝͞.̶̸̰͎̮̼̻̘͔̞͓̳͓̣̮ͣ̃̽̊̓ͩ̌ͅ ̷̧̜̰̗̥̙̲ͫͪ͛͋͌̅͗̈̇̈͊͆̿̽̚̕͝ͅ Ś̥͍͓̤̦̥̥̜̗̹̮͖̱̌̄ͤ̅ͨ̈̅͝ͅḫ̷̫͕̫̤̇ͥ̅̃̐̀́̿̎͋̈́ͦͬ̐ͦͭ͟͝u̵̸̸̶̬̲̭̹̺͕͚͍̭̙͎̺͍͊̑̅͋ͫ͐̉͊̊t̢͚͉̲̣̩̻͍̱̿̍̇͐ͥ̒͆͑̽͗̇ͦͥ̚͘ ̅͗͒̽͊̍̈́̔ͨ̄̈ͫ͛͐̑̋̕҉̮͕͍̱̖͇̘̞̱̞̰̘̘͖uͮ̉̿̓͑̅͗̈́̾͋̋̐̓͌̆҉̷̧̢̳͔̱̱̰̤̜̳͉̱̹̬̬͢p̸̡̩͈͉̗̪̦̝̞̞̹̠ͪ̊ͮ̒ͫͦ̆ͮ̋ͦͫ̏͢͝͞.̶̸̰͎̮̼̻̘͔̞͓̳͓̣̮ͣ̃̽̊̓ͩ̌ͅ ̷̧̜̰̗̥̙̲ͫͪ͛͋͌̅͗̈̇̈͊͆̿̽̚̕͝ͅ_

 

_What do you mean, you didn’t know he had a crush on you? He only came to the concert, because you invited him?_

 

 

S̸̵̼̫͇̦̥̗̼̰̰̫͖̮ͫ̂̊͑͐̋́̏̓̚͠h̷̢̢̽͊̇ͨͩ́͂̅̽ͬ̍̃͌͆̀͏̴̼̥̗̥͙̹̠̹̖̪̪ử̸̾ͨ̈̒̂ͫ̿͐ͮ̇͋̚҉̭̤̘̤̳͉̥̤̱̗̣̜̤͍͙t̵̸͖͙̰̼̳͎̼̙̳̟͖̝̱̻̮̹̹̪ͨ̽̏͌̆̔̈͜ ̸ͯ̏̎̊̀̊͢͝͏͇̫̠̞͓̻̱̞ư̘͙̞̞͈ͪ̓ͯ̉͛͆̇̇ͪͩ̀̈ͤ̕͢p̷̧̤͚̯͖̪̰̫̱̝͈̀̃ͩ͒ͫ͌̈͡.͆͋͂́̉̀͐̃̿̉ͪ͗̑͑̇͡͏̙̱̝̖̫̱̬͔͓͎͓͕̖̻̖̜̟̥̘͢ ̶̧͙͓̯̯̘̩̗ͫͣ̍͗͘͝ͅŜ̷̢̰͇̪̩̮̫̬̤͇͎̼̝͈̞̙̔̈́̌̾ͅͅh̢̜̱̫̼̠̦̖̟͎͚̝͔̹͛̀̈̇ͥͮ̉͢u̍̌̒̏̽̅͛̓͘͘͝͏̬͙͍̻̗͈̠͍̝̳̯̳̫̱͚͙t̐̊̔̔̒̓̀͊̉̓̓̔ͯ̿̌̈́̓̀̄͏̺̠̯͉̮̟̻̳̰̬̯͙͎̳͈̱͡ͅ ̵̮̣̠̺͙̪͖̙͚̦̇ͩ̅̑̄̂͆̈̓͒̉͠ͅü͎̬̹̦̩̺̹̳̭͈̗ͥͥ͌ͬ̿͌̌ͯ̑̅ͥ̐͑̽͛̆̽̚͘͡p̢̧̲͚̗̬̣̟̙͍͎̼̎̓̈́ͥͯ̓͛̌.̰̠͇̫̂̇͌͌̊ͣ̊ͤ̏̾ͥ͞ ̆̃̓̋̉̓ͫ͢͡͏̳̞̙͈̰̙̪̙͔̞̜͙̮͍͍͎͖̬S̶̲̦̘̳͍̜͇͎̘̏̇ͥ̏̃ͮ̌ͯh̶̶̨̺̯̪̺̙̫̣͖̙̥̪̤ͪͣͯ̇ͦͣ̓ͯ͋͐ͤṵ̖͉͙̯̱ͪͮ̑̊͋̉̅ͦ̕͠t̶̷̡͍̮̮̺͉̠̖͈̟̫̤͓͇͇͖͇̭͑͋ͩ̔̒̓ͮ̆̀͆ͣ̍ͬ̚͜ ̵̀ͨͩ͐ͤ̌ͤͨͯ̾ͯͫ͐͋҉̼̣͚̖̩̤͕̬ų̷̷̷̘̗̲͇͖̳̖̩̤̜͉͇̝̲̟̙̟ͭͭ͐ͭ̏ͅp̷̡̡̛̙̤̹͇͔͇̩̘̫̘̲̼̥̜̄ͫ́̊͐̀ͣ̾͂͆̈͐̃͋̚.̵̱̟̦̫̻̭̟͍̩̫̳̻̱̫̩̫͔̰̝ͯͭ̃̂ͫ̐̽ ̸̧̹̤͔̫̦̹̞̳̙̭̝̙̘̝̘͔̍͋ͩͥ͒ͮ͗͌̕͞Ṩ̵̷̢͎̩̪̠̥̦̞͔͍̑̎ͧ̚͞h̵͑̊̔ͪ̀ͬ̃̔ͦ̚͏͍͓̱͉͇̩̘̲̪̳̖̳̮̠ͅų̸̼̺͈̫̭̦͚̫͍̯͎͊̆͛̓ͯ̒̈̇͌́͐̈̚͢ṭ̸̨̢̫̝͎̤̺ͦͦ̎̔̔͛ͨ̓̎ͦ̑ͣͯ͂ͩ̒̉̆̚͝ͅ ͨ͗ͤ̇ͥ̌̄̏ͭͯ͌̆̂̔ͫͬ̎͂ͬ͞͏̸̘͎̠̯̹̥̻͇̬̝̬͓̳̟̲͘͢u̵̵̪͕̯̞͎̠̱͉͍̜̭̣̦͔̜̞͎̯ͦ̇̈ͭ͋̾̆̉̅ͨͨͭ͛͡p̵̢̫̖͕̜̼̺̫̦̞̤̫̫̼̥̯̱̦͉̔͂̈́͛ͮ͊̑̈͛͂ͥ̽͑̔̑ͩ͑ͬ͞.̷̡̧̗̺̻̳̝͍̣̤͔̰̙̳̋͂̈́̏̿͐̔ ̵̵ͧͪ͋̎̾ͤ͏͕̟̪͚̠̮͉̝̼̯̼̖͙̹͈̹̬͉S̵͊͑͒̃̓̒ͧͦ̄̎̔̑͏̫͉̪͈̦̦̫̣̜̥̱̠̻h̨͎͖̤ͮ̃̿͐̿͑͊̍̑̌͐ͣ̕u̧͔̣͚̥̹͙̙̘͓̔̾ͣ͂̅ͮͪ͝t͚̤͕̞̭̩͓̣̤͇̠͔̻̙̱̗̥ͨ̽̓̃ͨ́͌ͪ͋ͧ̿̎͂ͥ̏̐̊̿̐͢͞ͅ ͇̹̼͇̖̲̥̹̠̰̬͚̩̳ͥ͑̓̔̓̔̎͊ͨ̃̆̈́͊̚̚͞ų̸̪̼̪̥̠̲̟̦̠̺̜͖̥͎͈ͨ̈̃͝ͅp̼̦͔̮͈̘̤̖̰̘͓͚̝̟̹̹͉̘ͮͤ͑ͮ̈́͗͘͢͡.̘̝̙͔̲̰̤̬͎̟͖͚̱̘͓̼̞̾̈́̀͛̆͋͛͑̍ͣ̂͂͠͞

 

 

 

She doesn’t want to go through this conversation again, not with him. It’s not like she can reject him and ‘go back to being friends’ when they haven’t even been that to begin with. She’s feeling queasy all over again. Every instinct in her body tells her to flee, change or delete her records and start a new life somewhere in the United States. But she can’t. This is different and he’s not one of the boys who met her once and become hopelessly infatuated with her for no reason. There’s also her duty as Ladybug and she really loves her job. Working at _Gabriel_ had always been her dream. She likes that her parents are still within reach and she would miss hanging out with Alya and the other girls.

 

She has to talk about this to someone. After cleansing the akuma and returning everyone back to where they belong, Marinette finds herself on her cousin’s couch. Félix is sitting to her left while Bridgette comes from the kitchen with a tray of pastries and three steaming cups.

 

“So what’s the matter?”

 

“Uh...I don’t really know how to say this… After I bit you for the first time, did you feel… more affectionate towards me?”

 

Bridgette and Félix gawk at her for a moment causing her to blush.

 

“I just… there’s this man I’m seeing. No! It’s not like I’m really seeing him. I mean… I mean...why is this so hard... anyway, he-he started to be more...more...”

 

“Amorous?” Félix tries to help and she nods fervently. Bridgette stirs her coffee in thought before answering.

 

“Not particularly. I mean, I’ve always been kinda protective of you when we were little kids and while it’s not an unpleasant experience, I don’t think I’ve been actively seeking you out. Besides, that would be weird.” she winks at her.

 

“I can confirm that, although I think that is not what’s really causing you to be all churned up inside. The real question is whether you want him to be or not.”

 

_Always so blunt, Fé._

 

“It’s not that simple.”

 

“Isn’t it always?”

 

“It would be complicated even if I weren’t a vampire.”

 

“And a miraculous holder. Imagine if you have a fight or break up with him and he gets akumatized over it.”

 

“Been there, done that.”

 

“Alright, let’s see. You trust him with your secrets, or, one of them. You feel some sort of attraction towards him- please, don’t squeal into my ear again- and you, I assume, respect him. Is your fascination being returned?”

 

“I… meeting his akuma personality was enlightening. He made it clear that I SHOULD go out with him, but do I really WANT to? And I know! I know that akumas are a lot more dramatic...less calmer than the actual person, but the things he said, the things he did… I feel no thrill over being worshipped like a god, it, it was just dreadful.”

 

“Glad to see you’re not a fourteen-year old anymore.”

 

“Bite me, Brie. You can bite me in the-”

 

“Wouldn’t that be something?”

 

“If the situation is that complicated, this session and some critical self-reflection alone won’t solve anything. You’re unsure how exactly you feel about him and that makes you scared.”

 

“I feel like I’ve been self-sabotaging myself for so long, I really can’t tell. I use the vampirism and the miraculous as an excuse, but-”

 

“Marinette. Just talk to him. Either way, you’ll feel better about it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is a little bit abrupt, but I wasn't sure where else to make the cut. I still have to take care of the elephant in the room (a certain blonde model and his actress of a mum) and then there's backstory, backstory, unfortunate reveal(s) and we're finished.


End file.
